Batman Electrum: The Fate Of Jason Todd
by Artemis Goldborough
Summary: Jason Todd died at the hands of the Joker, or did he? What really happened at the end of A DEATH IN THE FAMILY? My take on his fate and Batman's reaction to the belief that Jason died. This story is AU. In places it is dark but with a much stronger undercurrent of hope, love, and family than the current DC. This story is set in my personal version of DC, the Electrum Universe!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. DC Comics does. This is just a fun writing exercise.**

**Author's Notes: This story is AU, in some places very much so. It deals with a sympathetic Jason Todd. Speaking personally, I've read very little of the stories of Jason Todd before he died but I love what I've seen. I've read eveything I could about him, including information on the web at Daily Scans, Batman Wiki, DC Comics Data Base, and Comic Vine. I think 'A Death in the Family' shows clearly that his death was not his fault or Batman's. Later stories do not do him justice. **

**Do you know why he was really killed off? It wasn't because he was unpopular. That exscuse is just a editor's saving throw. A character is only as good as a writer chooses to make him and Jim Starlin didn't want to write sidekicks but was forced to. He wanted to get rid of Robin by any means possible. So when he got control of Jason Todd, he chose to write Jason in a sometimes unfavorable manner. Then later there was a publicity stunt where readers could call in and vote whether he lived or died. A difference of sixty five votes all done by an automated computer is said to have decided the cannon Jason Todd's fate. That was the first example of that kind of publicity stunt at DC, and thankfully, the last.**

**The character Jason Todd presented here in this first chapter is an amalgam of his pre-crisis and post-crisis selves with ideas of my own thrown in the mix. He's good. He's based on the Robin of the 1980's, not the Red Hood or the retcons of the 2000's.**

** This story is meant to be read on it's own but it is part of a larger universe. Every story in the Electrum is designed to be able to read by itself. If details on other Electrum stuff and my creative processes don't interest you, go ahead and skip the rest of the notes. This is my fourth effort at writing a story in my Electrum Universe. I have a large outline of what I want to do with it but my interests wax and wan so I skip around telling stories in different eras. My first work in this universe, 'Batman Electrum: Memiors of the Bat' has a few problems with it and probably needs to be reworked. My second story, 'Robin Electrum: Bats Cat and Birds' is a short humor piece about the original Robin and the first and second Batgirl, a story that is finished and marked complete. My third story 'Robin Electrum: Rogue Calamity' is a somewhat slow plot, a mix of drama and humor, about a sixteen year old Dick Grayson in Gotham City without Batman; and has only the first chapter loaded, the second is half written and still in progress. The desire to write this story became so strong that I had to drop the other story for a day and write it instead.**

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**Batman Electrum: The Fate Of Jason Todd**

** Chapter One**

_**Somewhere in Ethiopia- Jason Todd Wayne a.k.a. Robin **_

He is only one person, a boy, a young man. His willingness to trust those of his blood, his loyalty has doomed him. It has led him towards his death. His own mother has betrayed him. So many times Batman has comes to his to his rescue. So many times Batman has saved him. Jason fears that this time he will not. Batman, Bruce Wayne, the man who is the only real father Jason has ever known though they are not related by blood. Jason sees too late that family is not about blood, not at all. It does not stop him from wishing that his birth mother was all that she had appeared to be.

Jason Todd is on the ground in a warehouse somewhere in northern Africa. No, Jason Wayne, he thinks. But his mind is fragmented. His body aches so much he can not think straight. The pain is the product, the results of the Joker's fists and a crowbar. Tied up to a post a few feet away from him, is the woman, Sheila Heywood, his mother, the one who led him here. Jason does not blame his mother. How can he? She is Mom. How can he hate her? Only one thought passes constantly through his mind. He has to save her.

One of the Joker's thugs, a tall dark muscular mountain of a man comes closer. When the Joker's back is turned, the thug pulls out a needle, a syringe. Inside the syringe there is a strange slivery grey liquid. The thug smirks. An intelligence comes into the thug's eyes that was not seen before. Jason is weak, so tired, in so much pain. He does not feel the needle as presses against his skin. He wonders if he is hallucinating. Then he feels the cold. Where the needle touched his arm, the spot is like ice, an ice that is spreading slowly through his veins.

An image of a woman with long black hair and skin as white as bone, appears in the boy's mind. Her name, Natalia Knight. For only the shortest of times did he know her but she was like a mother to him. She who was called Nocturna.

More faces pass through his mind. Joseph and Katrina Todd, Joe and Trina who adopted him when he was just a baby, who for so long he believed were his parents. In truth they were his uncle and his aunt. For several years he grew up in New York with them. Two actors with less than successful careers. Two parents who loved Jason very much. Joe and Trina Todd who died in an car accident when he was five.

Another set of faces appear, Willis and Catherine Todd who brought him to a slum in Gotham. Who claimed to be his real parents, his birth parents. Only one was speaking the truth when he said this. The other was lying. Catherine who died of a drug overdose, who was more of mother to him then she ever had to be but less than he needed. Willis who was horrible, who met his end, his just reward, at the hands of Two-Face.

The last face running through Jason's mind is Batman's. The memory of how they first met the night when Jason stole the tires off the Batmobile. Batman who he was never scared of. A younger fair-haired Jason who was not afraid to insult the Dark Knight. He was twelve then, a short, starving, malnourished kid, toughened by living a year on the streets after Willis abandoned him.

Jason stares at Sheila, at her hair, the same shade of blond that his would be if he had not died it black. More evidence of their shared blood. He gazes franticly around the warehouse. The heat of a desert wars with the ice of a poison, in Jason's veins. Hot and cold, at once shaking and at the same time sweating. He sits up. He knows he has to do something but what?

The Joker comes towards Jason again with the crowbar in hand. "You still alive Birdie Boy?" the Joker says, in his taunting way. He beats Jason until the point that the boy is ready to pass into unconscious. Passing out would be a mercy. But Jason does not. He merely collapses. He lies there in the greatest of pain. His mind goes nearly blank. It is he thought that he must save his mother which keeps him from slipping away. Is the nothingness of sleep or is it death that tempts him? Whatever it is, Jason knows that he must fight. He stirs. He gets on his knees. The blood, his blood is falling to floor.

"Jason! You're still alive!" his mother shouts. "The bomb, deactivate it!

He sees a bomb on the floor. It is ready to go at any moment.

"Can't…in no shape to handle that," Jason says. Every word is difficult. Every movement is stiff. Yet the pain is lessening. Something is not right. Jason knows he can't think of this. Can't stop to think, has to save his mother. He has to!

"Gotta get you out of here," Jason says, as he stands. He unties his mother's wrists from the post. He falls to the ground. "Mom run!"

Sheila bends down. She grabs Jason's arm. "Come," she says, "Let me help you. We'll get out of here together." She helps him to stand. Together they move to the door. Just as they reach it, just as they get outside, the bomb explodes. The heat is so strong. In the war in Jason's body, the war between the fire and the ice, the fire is now winning. And the darkness welcomes him like a long lost friend calling him home.

_**Later- Batman's POV-**_

What price is a life? The life of a boy who was not nearly as innocent as he should have been but was a boy none the less. A boy who was only a few years from being legally a man. A boy who will never reach that milestone now. Batman's heart breaks as he carries his Robin away from the ruined warehouse. The boy's body is battered and bruised. He lies so limp, so still. He was only fifteen. Now he is dead.

"He's dead," Batman says, redundantly stating what he knows to be true. All the weight of world, all the agony seems to be held in those two simple words.

Batman doesn't let himself cry, not until he reaches the Batplane, not until he sits in the cockpit. He sets the plane to autopilot. He cannot steer it. He cannot control anything right now. He removes the cowl revealing the face of Bruce Wayne. The tears finally fall, bitter and long does he cry. His son, his youngest boy is dead. Nothing in all the world can change this.

_**Many hours later- The Batcave beneath Wayne Manor-Alfred Pennyworth-**_

Alfred Pennyworth is a proper gentleman's gentleman. He has served the Wayne family for many, many years. He sits in a chair in the Batcave. He waits. He fears the worst.

The plane lands in the cave. Alfred run toward it. He stops as the hatch opens, as Bruce walks out of the plane, his uniform on but the cape and cowl off. He is carrying something. Something is wrapped up in the bluish black cape. Bruce's face is grim. It is a face of deep agony.

"Sir?" Alfred questions. He gasps as Bruce pulls back the cape to reveal the face, the body of Jason, Bruce's adopted son. Alfred has fought in wars. He has served his country as an agent of MI6. He knows a corpse when he sees one. Young master Jason is dead.

_**Three days later on a cloudy afternoon- The Gotham Cemetery- Bruce Wayne-**_

That a parent should have to bury his child, what a horror. It is a nightmare, a living one. Bruce keeps thinking that he will wake up. That he will hear Jason laugh, watch him smile as he gets up to some mischief again. Right now he would give anything even to see Jason in a fit anger. Just to see him alive again he feels as if he would do anything. The boy was not his by blood but for three years Bruce loved him. For three years he raised him. Bruce Wayne stands on a hillside. Less than a dozen others stand there. So few were there that truly knew Jason, that loved him. One of those who is conspicuously absent is Bruce's first boy, his foster son, his former ward, Dick Grayson, the first Robin.

Bruce wonders what he did wrong. He ponders the coincidences. So many things odd things that led to Jason's death. The discovery that Catherine Todd was not his biological mother. The three women who might be Jason's mother all being in the Middle East at the same time as the Joker. Bruce wants to blames himself. At times he almost wants to blame Jason but that would be the ultimate fallacy. It doesn't matter who is at fault. The boy is dead. No amount of recriminations will change that. So many coincidences…almost as if it was some dark fate. As if it was meant to be. No, Bruce cannot, he will not believe this.

Jason was such a bright boy, a troubled boy, a loving boy, a boy who wore his heart on his sleeve. When he was happy you knew it. When he was angry you really knew it. He was loyal, oh was he loyal. He was so fierce when it came to injustice or loyalty betrayed.

Bruce sobs. "My son…my boy…Jay…" Alfred put hand on Bruce's shoulder. As the dirt covers the casket, as the dirt covers the boy Bruce had loved as his own, Alfred guides Bruce away. For a moment Bruce feels like the kid he once was, the kid who stood in this cemetery watching his parents be buried. Alfred had been there for him then too. Somehow though this feels worse. A child, his child is gone forever, to never grow up, to never fall in love, to never have a family of his own.

_**The Batcave-**_

A new shiny display stands. It shows off a costume, red, yellow and green. It is the costume of the second Robin. The Robin who died too young. There is a large golden looking plaque leaning against the case. On the plaque engraved are the words:

_Jason Peter Todd Wayne_

_A Good Solider, A Beloved Son._

_Gone But Never Forgotten._

_**Night fall- The Gotham Cemetery- Jason Todd Wayne-**_

Darkness surround him. It covers him like a blanket. There is no feeling. There is only vague thoughts and an increasing awareness. Jason is bewildered and confused. His breaths are shallow and few. Minutes pass between each breath. Jason knows this not normal, not natural. So little else does he know. He barely knows his own name. Three thoughts repeat like a broken record in his brain. Where is Bruce? Where is Batman? Where has the Joker put him?

Jason struggles to move. At first he can't. He can't even feel his own body. Then comes the feeling of ice. He is so cold. Slowly the cold gives way to a fire, different from the one he felt before during the explosion. This fire seems to run through his veins. His body feels if it is burning from the inside out.

Jason realizes he is lying in a small narrow box. The box is lined with cloth. His body becomes charged with adrenaline. He has to get out! He scratches the cloth until he hits wood. His hands go through the wood. His fingers ache. The nails bleed. His hands hit dirt. Then it hits. The truth dawns. Jason Todd Wayne has been buried alive!

Jason digs his way out of the ground. He fights with a strength, an energy he can scarcely believe he has. He hits mud as he climbs. When he gets out of the ground, he finds that he is in a cemetery. The rain is falling, pouring from the sky. Jason is wearing a now muddied suit. There a gravestone with his name on it and a date of death. Jason looks around. He knows this cemetery. This where Bruce comes every month to lay down flowers on the graves of his parents, Thomas and Martha Wayne. Jason can see the familiar distinctive headstones only a few feet away. This is the Wayne family burial plot. Jason screams as he realizes yet another truth. Bruce Wayne, his adoptive father, is the one who buried him alive!

Jason sits there kneeling on the ground beside the gravestone. His gravestone. He reels in shock. He falls backwards lying on the ground. He hears footsteps slap against muddy ground. Someone is speaking. More than one person. He can't understand the words but he recognizes the languages from Bruce's training. It is a mixture of Chinese and Arabic. They come at him all dressed in black, their faces hidden. They grab him. The strength he had is fading. Jason is suddenly weak. He can't fight back. There are many of them. There is only one of him. He is dragged off against his will by two of them.

There is a large black van, no license plates, waiting at the front gate of the cemetery. Jason's arms are tied behind his back. He is thrown into the van. Waiting for him there is a face he knows. An Asian woman with short black hair, she is Lady Shiva. She was of the three woman who he had identified as possibly being his mother. Her name Sandra Wu-san, was one of the names in his biological father's address book. Batman had had to use truth serum to get her to admit that she wasn't Jason's mother.

Jason glares at her. This woman has tried to kill Batman more than once. Jason doesn't want to deal with her. "W-what do you want?" Jason asks hoarsely. His throat is sore. His voice strange to his own ears, as if he hasn't spoken in days.

Lady Shiva smiles. "It is not what I want," she says, "It what my employers want.

"W-who," Jason stutters struggling to speak. "Argh!" he yells out of pure frustration.

"I see the drugs worked well," Shiva says, "The side effects are less than expected."

"D-d-drugs?" Jason asks.

Shiva laughs. "They call them the Resurrection Drugs. Depending on how you look at it, it's either a misnomer or a joke. The drugs are mystical in nature. An alchemical brew much the same way the Lazarus Pits are but otherwise very different."

Nobody drugged Jason. Nobody! He was too week to put up a good fight and his hands were tied behind his back. If this woman could nearly kill Batman he didn't have a chance against her. He asks, "Th-these- d-drugs, what t-th-ey do?"

"There's three of them," Shiva says. "Three potions, three mystically charged chemicals that individually work quite different but when combined produce miraculous results. It puts a body into a stasis that resembles death. You were given the minimum dosage, enough to put you for about seventy-two hours. However the stasis is not all that the drugs do."

Shiva pulls out a knife. She cuts the ropes from Jason's wrists. She then cuts one of the sleeves of his suit. His bare arm is exposed. He expects bruises. There are none. Cuts that he knows happened recently are now faint scars.

"The head, the chief of my employers," Shiva says, "never uses the Resurrection Drugs. Long term use of the drugs can cause brain damage as can a high dosage. The cells of the brain are the one the thing that I have been told the drugs do not restore properly. If you been given enough to keep you out for months you likely be mistaken for autistic, if you were lucky."

"Your e-em-employers…W-ho?" Jason asks.

Lady Shiva smiles a wicked grin. "The League of Assassins of course. Once a member always one. I keep leaving but they keeping pulling me back. I'm too talented to get rid of. You on the hand…I'm not so sure. Why would they go to so much effort for the adopted son of a billionaire?"

Jason's mind grows clear with every passing second. He can hardly believe this. Shiva somehow does not know he's Robin! He's always been good at reading people. It's part of what let him survive on the streets after his second adoptive mother's death. He doesn't believe that Shiva is lying.

Jason does not like the way his thoughts are turning. If everything she said is true then Bruce must think he's dead! Bruce must think that the Joker killed him! Will Batman try to take revenge for a murder that never happened? Jason's eyes go wide. No! He can't! It'll break him. It'll change him.

"I don't know why," Shiva says, "that the League wants to recruit you so much." The League of Assassins. Jason knows something about them. Their leader is Ra's al Ghoul, a creepy, horribly manipulative man, who has lived for centuries. Is Ra's trying to test Batman again? This goes beyond testing. This could destroy him.

Batman always saves Jason. But how can Batman come if he doesn't even know Jason is alive? Bruce will not come for him, not this time. Jason knows this beyond any doubt. Fear grips his heart. What will happen to Bruce Wayne, to Batman without Jason?

The van begins to move. The back of the van has no windows. Jason can't see out into Gotham City. He knows somehow that he will not Gotham again, not for a long time. He fears for the man who is for intents and purposes his father. When Jason see him again, will his father be the same man? Or will revenge for Jason's apparent death change the man beyond recognition?

"N-no!" Jason shouts, "It c-can't happen! It won't!" Jason stand ups. He has to fight back. He has to escape. He has to get back to Bruce! A quick strike from Shiva's fist and he falls down. As Jason passes into the oblivion of unconsciousness, the van rolls on out of Gotham City taking him further and further way from the only family he has left.

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**If you like this story, please review! Reviews let me know that others like the story and want to read more. Good reviews let me know that I'm doing something right. Constructive Criticism lets me know where I can improve. I love knowing what others think about my stories! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. DC Comics does. This is just a fun writing exercise.**

**Author's Notes: This chapter is being posted later than planned due to health problems.**

**The one named OC in this chapter, Kali is a major recuring villian for the Bat Family in my Electrum Universe. Kali's story is deeply to connected to my take on what happened to Cassandra Cain after she stopped being Batgirl. So far I've only used Kali in one other story 'Rogue Calamity', a story which also a work in progress. Everything you need to know about Kali for this story, will be revealed in this story. As I've stated before all Electrum stories are meant to be read as standalones.**

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**Chapter Two**

_**Gotham City- The Drake Residence- Tim Drake-**_

A twelve-year-old boy with dark hair sits alone at a kitchen table. A science fiction novel is in his left hand. A fork is in his other hand. A plate filled with bacon, eggs, and fried potatoes sits on the table in front of him. The boy, Tim Drake, will turn thirteen in less than a month. His parents are not home. They won't home by his birthday either. Tim knows this. It hurts and always has. All the times his parents were absent over the years. But his parents are very busy people. Even when they're home they don't have much time for him.

Tim's father Jack Drake is an archeologist and a businessman. Tim's mother Janet Drake works alongside him in the business which takes them all over the world. Drake Industries is a highly successful global company.

Tim is still sitting at the table as the housekeeper comes back in the room with the day's newspaper in hand. Mrs. Gruen is just the latest of a very long line of housekeepers and nannies who've looked after Tim over the years. She's a plump middle-aged woman who's rather forgettable. She opens up the newspaper and begins reading it. Tim goes on eating his meal and reading his book.

Mrs. Gruen speaks but Tim drowns her out. Then she says the name, "Wayne." Tim looks up from his book. The housekeeper's face is obscured by the newspaper. Her voice sounds pitying. "What a shame, what happened to Bruce Wayne," she says.

"What?" Tim asks, "What happened?" Tim has an avid but hidden interest in the activities of Bruce Wayne. Tim has a secret that he's never told anyone. It's not really his secret, it's Bruce Wayne's. No one ever told Tim this secret. He figured it out on his own. All those stories that get reported in the papers of thefts at Wayne Enterprises, those aren't exactly thefts. The high-tech gear is being used by Batman. Bruce Wayne is Batman.

The housekeeper folds back the newspaper showing a picture of a boy. It's a boy who looks no more than two or three years older than Tim. "Bruce Wayne's adopted son," Mrs. Gruen says, "He died in an accident. It says here, there was some kind of explosion, gas leak in one of the cottages on the back of the Wayne Estates. There were signs of previously unknown squatters living in the cottages. They beat the boy badly. One of their cigarettes is believed to have caught the place on fire. None of the hoodlums have been caught. The boy died of his wounds and smoke inhalation."

The housekeeper shakes her head. "What that boy was doing out there…heaven only knows. Poor Mr. Wayne. That man can't seem to catch a break. Such a success with his charity work and but not in his personal life."

"No kidding," Tim mutters.

Bruce Wayne's is Gotham City's richest most eligible bachelor. He's a billionaire famous for three things: a string of whirlwind romances, a passion for extreme sports, and a strong dedication to charity work. About half of Gotham sees him as a playboy who is ruining his family's name. The other half of the city sees him as a great philanthropist with a very unfortunate and tragic past.

Tim knows some of the stories. How the most of the previous generation of Waynes and Kanes all died in their prime. Most of them were murdered. None of them died of natural causes. You couldn't grow up in Gotham and not know about this. The Waynes and the Kanes are the closest thing to royalty that Gotham has. They are the oldest families in the city. They pretty much built the city.

Looking at the newspaper Tim knows another tragedy has struck, a deeper one than the housekeeper thinks. That boy Bruce adopted had to be the second Robin. It wasn't a gas leak or thugs, not on the Wayne Estates. Tim isn't sure what happened but it happened when Jason was acting as Robin. It was Robin who died. Tim is sure of this. For the first time in years Batman is without backup or support. What this means for Gotham is something Tim can only wonder.

_**Two days later- The Batcave beneath the Wayne Manor- Dick Grayson**_

He paces the floor back and forth. Pent up energy, a mix of rage and sorrow fills him. He wears his Nightwing costume with its contrasting colors of blue and yellow. Only his mask is missing. The grays walls of the cave are all but a blur to his eyes which keep threatening to fill with tears. He's a young man of twenty-one but more than ever Dick Grayson feels like a boy, a lost boy. His brother is dead. Jason Todd is dead. It was only hours ago that Dick learned this.

It's strange. When Jason was alive, Dick never really thought of him as a brother, not often at least. Dick wasn't hardly ever around Jason. To tell the truth for the past two years, he was kind of jealous. Jason had something Dick never did. Jason wasn't just Bruce's ward. Jason was legally Bruce's son. Dick never meant anger toward Jason. And now what he feels is regret. Guilt and sadness threaten to overtake him.

Dick remembers the good and the bad. He remember the first time he met Jason, how he felt such a kinship with him. He remembers how he tried at one point early on, to adopt the boy himself. After a while it had seemed right that Bruce had wound up keeping the kid. A nineteen year old bachelor living on his own had no business taking in a twelve-year-old. Dick is now second guessing that notion. If Jason had come to live in New York with him, he might still be alive. All those precious times he did spend Jason were not enough. He should have been around more. Maybe the kid wasn't related by blood or by law but as far as Dick is concerned, Jason was and still is his brother.

Dick goes still. He moves just enough to back up into a nearby cave wall. He leans there. He stays there for several minutes. He is still there when Batman walks up to him.

It is Batman, not Bruce. The cowl obscures the upper half of his face. His attitude is fierce. For someone who did not know him well it would be frightening. Even for those who do, it is intimating. It is the attitude usually reserved for criminals. There is a darkness about Batman. There always been but it has never been this strong. That glare has almost never been targeted towards those who did not deserve it.

"What are you still doing here, Dick?" Batman asks.

"It's still a free county isn't it?" Dick says bitterly, "This is still my child home. Isn't it? Oh that's right. I'm not your ward anymore. I'm not your anything." He laughs but the laughter is joyless and quickly turns into sobs. His head tilts down. Dick struggles to regain control of himself. He pulls out his mask from a hidden compartment in one of his gloves. He attaches the mask to his face. He raises his head back up. It is Nightwing who glares at Batman. "You want me gone? I'm leaving."

The former sidekick walks past his former mentor. A hand in a blue-black glove reaches out and grabs Nightwing's arm. "Wait," Batman says.

"Wait? For what?" Nightwing asks, "Jason is dead. There's nothing mor for us to say."

"There is," Batman says, "Help me."

Nightwing turns around to face Batman. He feels his brow raise behind his mask.

"Help me track down his murder," Batman says, "He needs to be stopped. He needs to be killed before he kills someone else.

Nightwing feels his brows go as high as they can. His mask, which was not firmly attached begins to roll up a little. His shock is so great that he finds it hard to speak. The words come out stilted and awkward. "His murderer? You- You're talking about killing the Joker! No."

"Yes." Batman nods his head ever so slightly. His face is as dark and grim as Dick has ever seen it. "Jason's killer needs to be stopped. He needs to be brought to justice."

"You're not talking about justice." Dick removes his mask and scowls at Batman. "That's vengeance. That goes against everything you ever taught me. No man has the right to take vengeance into his own hands. It goes against the laws of God and man. I won't be a part of that."

Dick wants to turn away but he doesn't. He does not know where the words are coming from. He goes on speaking because he feels somewhere deep in his heart that what he is saying needs to be said. "The Bruce Wayne, the Batman I knew, the one I thought of as somewhere between a father and a brother, was some I admired, someone who I loved. I still do. When my parents died, you and Alfred raised me. You kept me on the straight and narrow path. I wanted to kill Zucco once but you stopped me. You helped me see that it wouldn't fix things. It would only bring shame and dishonor to the memory of my parents. If you kill the Joker it still won't change things, not for the better. It won't bring Jason back! It'll only drag you down to a point of no return. If you kill the Joker then you will no longer be the man you once were. It'll bring down everything you've accomplished. It'll make it all for nothing! It will make no you better than the villains."

Dick raises his voice. "You're a hero!" he shouts, "You're Batman! More half the super hero community follows you! They look up to you! I looked up to you!"

Dick walks away. "You wanted me gone, Bruce? You just gave me the reason to leave. If you're going after the Joker with revenge in mind then I can't be there." Dick turned his head around to look one more time at Batman. "You might not believe it but I didn't intentionally miss Jason's funeral. It was no excuse when I said that I was off-world. I was. If you need me call me but only if you need me. As much as we've argued and fought over the past few years I still care about you. If you asked me to I'd follow you into battle. There isn't much I wouldn't do. But if it's about revenge, forget it!" Desperation slips into Dick's voice. "Don't walk that path, Bruce. Please-just don't."

Dick walls away fearing that his words have fallen upon deaf ears. He can barely deal with his own grief. He could not stand around and watch Bruce fall apart. He can't be here if Bruce does something drastic. He can't handle that. He hasn't the strength.

Dick moves past the display with Jason's costume. He looked at the inscription. A good soldier? A good son? What good is this plaque? The boy is dead. Dick raises a hand, a fist. At the last he moment he slows his swing. Instead of breaking the glass, his hand brushes against it, his palm flat. He leans forward against the display. Once more he sobs.

He pulls back away from the case. He glances around the cave one last time. The giant penny and dinosaur are in their familiar places, trophies of adventures long past. This place was as much or more a home than the manor above. For a moment memories of Dick's time as Robin flood his mind. For one brief instant the grief is gone. There is joy in those memories of simpler, happier times. But it is only a moment. The grief, the pain, the sorrow floods back in. The weight of the world seems to press down upon his shoulders. Dick moves to leave the cave. He does not plan to ever come back.

_**Three days later- Somewhere in Southeast Asia- Exact location unknown- Jason Todd Wayne-**_

The room is made of dark brown stones. There is very little light pouring through. The light comes from a window higher than Jason's head. He has to stand on his tip toes to look out. He is doing so now. He sees only a jungle out there and a hint of distant buildings. Jason thinks they're ruins. Ancient looking spires stand taller than the trees.

Jason relaxes sinking back to the stone floor. He looks around at the small room. The jacket of the suit he was buried in now lies in a corner on the floor. A wooden bucket stands in another corner reeking almost as bad as a sewer. This room is a prison cell. It is an a very old one. There is no plumbing. Jason has been here for a few days, maybe even a week. He's beginning to lose track of the time.

Jason fumbles with the buttons removing his sweat stained shirt. He then drops to the floor and does push ups. The room is just large enough for that. His jailers are feeding enough that he does not lose strength from lack of a meal. Unfortunately the food is mainly brown rice and some kind of fish. Jason has never been so sick of rice in his life.

Voices suddenly speak in Chinese. Jason jumps quickly on to his feet. With lighting speed he grabs the shirt and jacket thrusting them on without bothering to button them. If he isn't wearing them he fears they'll be taken the way they took his shoes and socks the other day.

The wooden panel in The cell door opens. Two guards stand outside in the hall. They are tall strong men with oriental facial features. They are otherwise forgettable. As far as Jason can tell there have at least six guards coming around the cell since Jason got here. The guards usually only come to bring food or switch out the bucket. Some they come merely to look in on him.

Jason knows that something different is going. There is a change here, a change in the routine. One of the guards comes into the room carrying a spear.

Jason back ups against the wall under the window. He stares nervously at the guard and rubs at his right arm. He tried rather stupidly to fight one of the guards a few days back. He's lucky his arm isn't broken. He looks down. There is rather large bruises near his chest. He's really lucky he doesn't have broken ribs. The guards are very good fighters. They are stronger than him. Also have weapons and gear, something Jason does not have. He can't fight back easily. Even if he escaped, where would he go? Wherever he is, it is not the United States. He has no passport. He doesn't speak the language. And those gauds… he's sure there's a lot more of them.

The guard holds a pair of manacles. Not handcuffs, manacles. Jason stares in disbelief. "Oh come on!" Jason says sarcastically, "It's bad enough that your carrying that stupid stick instead of a gun but that? What's next? Crossbows? Ridiculous!" Jason is yanked forward pulled by his shirt and jacket. He is then slammed into a wall face first. His arms are pulled back. The cool heavy iron manacles touch his wrists. The guard yells at him in Chinese.

"It was a joke!" Jason mutters with his face press against the stones of the wall.

In under a minute Jason is out of the cell. He is forced forward at spear point. He looks around the hallway which soon leads out into more open space. Instead of walls, stone pillars hold up one side of the roof. There are animal like carvings on the pillars. Jason is but dragged through a wide doorway. The room he now finds himself in is large and vast. There are paintings on the ceiling, multiple images of a woman with four arms. Jason stares upwards even as he is forced to walk forward. There is a hole in the ceiling, a skylight without glass. Light pours down into center of this grand room. Staining on a large round pedestal of stone is a woman.

Jason is forced onward, only to be stopped a few feet away from the pedestal. Pressure is applied to his back, sending him to his knees. He stares up at the woman. He blinks in shock. This woman is transparent! He can see right through her!

The woman is Chinese in appearance. Her face looks a lot like Lady Shiva's but at least twenty years older. Her black hair is streaked with white. She wears a fancy headdress and an even fancier red and gold dress. The dress makes Jason think of an kung fu he watched once. A princess in the movie had worn a dress kind of like one. Bruce had called the movie a Wuxia. Jason had loved the movie but Bruce hadn't/ Bruce had criticized every bit of action in the film, especially the wire work. Just thinking of Bruce hurt. Was he ever to see him again?

Jason's eyes continue to stare up at the woman. What is she? A hologram? An alien? A ghost? That last one makes his hair want to stand on end.

The lady is pretty to look at but there is nothing kind about her face. Jason is good reading peolpe. There's something about her that he just doesn't trust. A vicious smile suddenly spreads across her lips as if confirming his theory. Jason is reminded of a shark preparing for the kill. "So," she speaks, "you are the apprentice of that Bat Man that Ra's Al Ghul is so obsessed with." The lady's words are accented. She pronounces 'Bat' and 'Man' as two separate words. She gestures at herself. "I am Kali."

Her words scare him even more than . If she had him brought here in civilian identity then she has to knows who Bruce is! Jason tries his best not to let the fear show. "Lady," Jason shouts, "I don't care who you! Just let me go!"

Kali raises a brow. "Go? You are not going anywhere unless I tell to you. You are mine." "You don't own me!" Jason yells. "If you know who my father is," he bluffs, "then you know he'll come for me!"

"Will he?" Kali asks. She laughs. "Such spirit you have." She barks out orders in Chinese.

Jason is lifted onto the platform by on one of the guards. "Hey!" Jason shouts, "Let go!" His protests dohim no good. Jason finds himself laying flat on his back, alone on the pedestal with Kali. He lays there looking up at her. He gets up quickly back on to his knees. She reaches down touching his bare chest. Her left hand passes right through him! Her hand stays there. It is cold like ice. He shudders. He tries to move but can't. Her hands stays literally in his chest for over a minute before she pulls away.

"No," Kali says, "You will not do." "D-do?" Jason stutters. In spite of the heat he is begging to freeze. At the same his heart is beating very fast out of fear. Fear isn't the word. He's terrified!

"As a vessel," Kali says, "you are not appropriate. You are worse than most. You would not last five minutes." "V-vessel?" Jason asks. He does not like the sound of that. "Wh-what are you?" "Your queen," Kali says as if that explains everything. She gives orders in Chinese again.

Jason is dragged off the platform by the same guard that lifted him up there. Kali continues speaking. A very old Asian woman walks forward from a darkened corner of the room. This woman is dressed plainly, men's clothing, peasant garb that definitely looks like it could have come out of that old kung fu movie or something similar. Jason doesn't like the way the old woman is looking at him. Her eyes are very sharp, too sharp. She's sizing him up like a piece of meat. This woman gives out orders of her own.

Jason is dragged away by the two guards that brought him here. He is taken down several hallways. It is a maze of halls and courtyards, impossible to keep track of.

Soon Jason taken into a large open room with large pool of bubbly in the center of the floor. There are four old women who make that last one he saw look almost gorgeous by comparison. Hag though is not quite the right word. Monster is better. These women are built like sumo wrestlers. They are tall. They all have to be at least six feet five in height if not taller. Their skin is wrinkly and droopy. Jason can see a lot of their skin then he'd like to. These old women are wearing only loin cloths and cleavage revealing bikini tops. Jason does not want to see that much skin. If it was pretty young babes, sure why not. But they're not. They're ugly old women! Their breasts are sagging and baggy. There are so many wrinkles and folds. It's hideous!

Against his will Jason is dragged up to the pool and the women. The manacles are taken off his wrists. The guards walk away. Jason tries to run away. One of the old women grabs him by the arm. The other three aproach him. They grab his clothes. They rip the clothing right off of him.

"Stop!" Jason shouts, "Quit that!" It's like a nightmare. All Jason wants is to get away. He lands a punch on the one holding his arm. She doesn't even flinch. "What are you made of? Iron?" Jason asks. Jason quickly finds himself naked, surrounded by the hags. With a strength that has to be super human, the one holding him, lifts Jason up and puts him into the pool of water.

He panics. He splashes about. He gets some of the bubbles in his mouth, only to realize that it is soap. The women hold him down, scrubbing his body. "Cut that out!" Jason screams, "This is embarrassing! This is humiliating! This is criminal! I isn't going to say this again. Quit!" He kicks. He thrashes. He twists and jerks. Nothing he does works. They just hold onto him tighter. They keep bathing him like he's a baby that can't do anything. Jason can feel his face going bright red.

A white liquid is run through his hair. A dark inky color begins to drip from his head. The women shake their heads disapprovingly. They speak scoldingly in Chinese. A strand of his hair falls forward dangling just over his right eye. Alfred had been telling him for a while that he needed to get a hair cut, so it isn't that surprising that the hair is falling into his eyes. It is the color that startles him. The strand is yellow. Whatever they put in his hair, it's striping out the black hair dye. His hair is blond again.

Jason stops struggling. He goes quiet. For almost three years he has died his hair regularly. It was his choice. It made him look more Bruce. It made him look more the way he felt Robin should. Sometimes he likes to pretend to himself that Bruce is his dad by blood as well as by law. The loss of the black coloring is such a small thing but it's one more step away from Bruce. It's one more reminder of how far away from him he really is.

Jason doesn't even protest as one of the old women lifts him out of the pool and begins drying him with a towel. His mind is somewhere else. He barely notices his surroundings. Bruce is the only true father he's really known and might never see him again. It's a haunting thought.

Jason is snapped out of it by one of the old hag's attempts dress him. "Oh no," Jason says, "I am not a doll! I'm not some stupid baby! You're not going to keep treating me like one!" He grabs the clothing out of the woman's hands. She lets him. He quickly a pair of gray pants and a short-sleeved gray shirt. The shirt closes and wraps in a robe-like fashion. His feet slip into a pair of straw sandals. Jason tries to run. Once more he is grabbed. This he is held by the by back of his shirt. He crosses his arms and scowls. The old women all laugh.

Two new guards soon come. Once more Jason's arms are bound by manacles. He led again through the maze of halls. He is soon thrown into a dim room. The manacles are removed, then the door is slammed behind him.

Jason hears voices, children's voices speaking in many languages. He can identify four of the languages, Chinese, Spanish, French and Arabic. He knows Spanish but he can't make out the words much. It's too many voices speaking at once. His eyes adjust to the dimness. He sees them, the children, boys and girls. They are Black, White, Hispanic, and Asian. It looks as if they have been stolen from all over world. Not a single one of them looks older than thirteen. Some appear as young as five or six. There's at forty maybe fifty kids in here. All are dressed in gray clothing much like his own.

What is this? Child Slavery? Jason doesn't know. He only knows that he is right in the middle of whatever this is. He's in trouble and for the first time since he was twelve, help is not coming.

_**Two weeks later- The United Nations Building in New York- Batman-**_

Batman steps through the door of the office. Sitting behind the desk is the Joker. The Joker smiles. "Bats Darling!" the Joker says, "It's been a while hasn't it? Actually no, it hasn't."

For once it is the Joker that has a legal right to be somewhere. It is Batman who is intruding. According to the law it is Batman who is in the wrong here. He does not care. He has a hairline fracture in his right hand from hitting Superman yesterday. Yet Batman does not notice the pain. He knows full well that Superman would stop him if he were here. It is the man of steel's interfering ways that caused the dark knight to hit him in the first place.

For Batman this is not about right or wrong. This about a boy who died too young. This is about a pain that will not go away.

"What was it?" Joker asks casually, "Two weeks, three?"

Batman growls. "You killed my boy." The Joker nods cheerfully. "Yep, I did that. Didn't I? A shame he only could die once." The Joker put his feet up on the desk. "My how times change. Way back, all those three weeks ago I was a poor Joker. Now, I'm a rich one with a nice cushy job as ambassador of an Middle Eastern county. If only Mommy could see me now!" The Joker puts one of his hands to his lips. He blows a kiss. "Now go away Batty Boy, before I call security. We wouldn't want to land in jail. Now would we? Diplomatic immunity is such a pesky thing after all. Lay one finger on me and you'll regret it." "No, I will not." With a speed almost inhuman, Batman is across the room. He stands behind the Joker's desk. He glares down at the Joker. "You killed my son!"

"Did I?" the Joker asks, "Is that what he is to you?"

Batman stretches out a hand preparing to snap the Joker's neck. Diplomatic immunity means nothing to him. At this moment the law means little to him. Still something stops him. His hand stops mere inches from the Joker's throat. It is not Superman that stops him. It is not a respect for the law. It's Dick. It's the memory of Dick said. It's Jason. It's the understanding that Jason would not want this.

Batman runs. The sound of the Joker's laughter follows him out of the office. More than ever Batman wants to kill the Joker but he won't. It's not that he can't. He could. Oh could he. He can do it with an ease that is nothing short of terrifying. Without even trying, Batman can think of a thousand ways to kill the Joker. But he won't commit the deed. It won't change the past. It won't save Jason. Instead, such an act could destroy Bruce's soul. It could damage any chance he ever has of seeing his parents or Jason in the life beyond this one. The price of vengeance is too high.

Batman makes his way of the building. He reaches the batplane. He puts the plane on autopilot and for the second time he sits there and cries. He cries for the boy who this lifetime he knows he will never meet again. He cries for his son, for Jason Peter Todd Wayne, a boy that he knows will never grow up.

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**If you like this chapter of the story, please review! I love hearing what others think of my stories. Good reveiws help encourage me to want to write more!**


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